21. your sick

Welcome to 1derland

Your sick and he takes care of you x

Liam: Liam can see just by the hunch of your shoulders and the bruises under your eyes that you aren’t feeling well. He knows you’ll write it off, you always do. You hate being sick and you hate going to the doctors even more. So when he hears the slight tickle in your throat as you say good morning, he takes matters into his own hands. He marches your little butt right back up the stairs, ignoring all your ‘I’m fine’ protests. He gets you back into bed and runs down stairs, whipping up a cup of tea and giving you some medicines. No, he doesn’t care that you have class today. No, he doesn’t care that you think you feel fine. He cares about you and your health, and he just wants to look out for you. He studied you curled in the bed, your arms wrapped around his pillow as you stared at him from the door way. You looked so tiny, so delicate and he wasn’t sure if he ever loved you more. Watching you lay there, hold onto the one thing that was his with such intensity nearly destroyed him. He knew there would be no work for him, he stripped back down to his sweats and climbed into bed with you, wrapping your shaky body up in his. Everyone else could wait but you, you always came first.

Louis: Louis may joke around about a lot of things, but one thing he didn’t joke around about is your health. You hated to tell him when you felt bad, knowing how he’d worry over you. So when he watched you skirt around him that night in the kitchen, your red puffy eyes to the floor he just knew something was wrong. Sure enough, he heard you coughing in the next room. Without a moments hesitation, he made soup and brought you cough syrup and sat you down on the bed. His blue eyes were concerned as he checked you for a fever, and asked what was bothering you. It was sweet, you mused, how serious he became when there was even something slightly wrong with you. He tucked you into bed and called the lads, there would be no studio for him tomorrow. He was spending the entire next day with you, keeping a careful eye out to make sure you didn’t get worse. He pressed his lips to your ear softly, singing a little bit of Look After You (your song, oddly enough) and lulled you into an exhausted slumber. When he was finally sure you were sleeping soundly, he closed his eyes. Not before he set an alarm to check on you every hour or so.

Niall: Niall freaked when there was anything even remotely wrong about you. He was surprisingly a worrier, even though he never showed it. You were his princess, his best girl, he was more protective than he would have liked to admit, but he just couldn’t help it. So when he came home from the studio to find an empty living room, his curiosity was piqued. (and he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling of panic in his stomach, either.) He ran up the stairs and into your bedroom and sure enough, there you were. Huddled up beneath the comforter and one of his large sweatshirts, you were shivering. Instantly alarmed, he took your fever. Well over 100 and climbing fast. He pressed cool compresses to your head, trying to bring your body temp down but nothing was working. He brought you Motrin, hoping that would kill the fever that was boiling you alive. He slid into bed beside you, drawing you into his chest as you shook. He was terrified, you’d never been this sick. He’d never felt you cling like this to him. He suggested the hospital, but you just shook your head. The only place you felt even remotely better was here in his arms, and how could he argue that when you fell asleep with your lips pressed to his neck?

Harry: Harry had no tolerance for your protesting. Clearly, you were ill. You could barely speak, coughing constantly and your skin felt too warm. He stared at you for a long moment, sprawled all over the couch with tissues at your feet. You’d woken up like this and it’d only been an hour but Harry couldn’t take it. He grabbed his keys and wallet off the counter and picked you up, bridal style. He carried you out into the car were he promptly drove you to the doctor, his long fingers wrapped around yours. It was a good thing he did too, you were getting bronchitis. He shot you that I told you so look, and drove around filling prescriptions and getting ice cream for you. Then, he tucked you into bed and did what ever he could for you. More tea? More ice cream? A different movie? He was so concerned with your comfort, it broke your heart. Finally, when you couldn’t see your darling man run around anymore, you just held out your arms to him. All you ever needed was him, and when you told him that he flushed a lovely shade of pink. He pressed you into his chest and watched TV with you, his lips never leaving your forehead.

Zayn: Zayn felt your pain. He took one look at you and knew how bloody awful you were feeling. Your body ached, your head was pounding. He winced for you when you coughed, your hand flying to your throat. He sat you down, ransacking the kitchen for something useful. He found some NyQuil and some aspirin, and pressed them into your hand. He called Harry to come sit with you while he ran to the store, stocking up on all the essentials. He hated leaving you, but he had to take care of you. He checked his phone constantly texting Harry for updates. No change, you were still just as bad. He rushed around the store, grabbing what ever looked good. He just needed to get back to you. Later, when Harry left and you were safe back in his arms, Zayn semi- relaxed, the medicine seemed to be helping and he sighed. You were so precious to him, so, so precious. He hated feeling this helpless as you were curled up next to him feeling so awful. He brought your knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently, his whole heart aching for his poor, sick girl.

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